


Every Sin

by TheRedWulf



Series: Jaimsa One Shots [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, F/M, Fluff, Jaimsa, Medieval, No Angst, Silent Sisters, Smut, just for fun, plot holes, plot holes everywhere, religious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 16:42:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20049247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - Medieval - In which the Kingslayer meets a woman destined for the Silent Sisters...Picset viewableHERE





	Every Sin

**Author's Note:**

> I don't consider myself a writer, so this is what it is...  
This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any errors.
> 
> Jaime's speech about Aerys is taken from the GoT show and paraphrased.  
Sansa's reading from the tome of the Seven is a mixture of several Scriptures.

Lady Sansa Stark stared out the window of the non-descript carriage that was hurtling its way to the Quiet Isle. She was tired, beyond just exhaustion of the flesh, it coursed through her very soul. Perhaps this was the end of one's life, she pondered, her heart heavy with grief and sorrow.

Two moons ago she had been a happy, vibrant daughter and woman, and now she was heading toward the Quiet Isle to take on the title of Silent Sister. She was utterly alone in this world, an orphaned girl now with no siblings and no means with which to support herself. She had accepted the fate the Gods had handed and made her way to the Sisters to dedicate her life to the Seven. 

She had once belonged to a large, loving family, but duty to the crown had torn them apart and every day she would blame her own foolish notions of being queen for their deaths. Sansa closed her eyes on a wave of tears and prayed for peace and understanding. She had once wanted to be queen, thriving in her own vanity she had prayed for a crown and instead she had brought down her entire family.

She blinked away tears as she thought of the parents betrayed by their own Lords, and her siblings slain in cold blood. She wished more than anything that she could avenge them but the Gods would frown upon such bloodlust and wrath. Sighing she touched the prayer beads hanging at her waist and tried to focus her thoughts. Peace. Tranquility. 

She was young, only ten and seven, with her whole life ahead of her. She had been quite beloved in Queen Cersei’s court but when her parents had fallen from favor, so had she. And oh had she fallen hard. Now she was running away, escaping to the last refuge that she could think of in this world. 

Absently she touched the wimple covering her greatest sin, hair of a bright, fiery red, the color of an angry sunrise. She blinked away tears at the reactions her hair had caused in court, the bright tresses a mark of sin and disgust. She could still feel the bite of the stone as she had been pushed to her knees to beg for forgiveness. She had done well her whole life to hide her hair’s color but Queen Cersei had announced it to the court, tearing her head covering away to shame her publicly before banishing her from any royal grounds. She had been a laughingstock then, a pariah that never wished to show her face again. 

A chill washed over her as the weather cooled once more and she pulled the furs tighter around her shoulders. The further north they traveled the colder it got, she frowned, wondering what life at the Quiet Isle would be like. 

The North had been cold but filled with her family and now she faced the cold without them. What could that mean….

“My Lord” Jaime was pulled from his musings as the butler called for him. 

“Yes” Jaime turned to face the guard as he ran closer. 

“A carriage, My Lord” Ser Damien continued. “They’re seeking refuge from the storm.”

Jaime sighed, shaking his head, “Allow them in, I will join you shortly” he gave the order, pinching his nose as the guard got to work. 

For nearly ten years he had lived alone at Casterly Rock, taking up residence at his father’s insistence after Jaime’s banishment from the realm. He had killed a king---a mad king but a king nonetheless, and now he was stuck in the country with a Lordship and a solitary, rural life that was more punishment than he could say. 

_ “Burn them, burn them all”_ Aerys’ words echoed in his mind every day as he relived stabbing the mad man to death. 

He had made a choice that night, to save every man, woman and child that he could and it had left him branded a ‘kingslayer’, a title that would surely follow him to the grave. Deep down he didn’t mind. He knew he has saved thousands of innocents from death but they had all been so quick to condemn him it made him ill. Surely a man who would give everything to protect them wasn’t such a monster, but alas...

Now he was lord of a forgotten, gothic mansion and a man that no maid would wed. Hilarious, he often thought. A well-decorated man of the kingsguard who now found himself cut off from the world, withering as the world passed him by. 

He stood from his desk as the men allowed the carriage into the walls and soon he made his way to the steps. He watched as the hired coach fought off the storm’s snowflakes and chill to park at his steps. 

“My Lady” the coachman helped the tall, slender woman from the carriage, burgundy dress a stark contrast to her white wimple as she moved to the cobblestones. Jaime watched her as she moved to the steps, her body the epitome of grace and elegance. He had not seen a woman in years and even then surely they were not as elegant as this one. 

“Lady Sansa Stark, his Lord Jaime Lannister” Ser Damien made the introductions as she moved to the steps. 

“My Lord” she curtsied perfectly and he bowed. 

“Welcome to Casterly Rock” he greeted her. 

“I apologize for any inconvenience,” she said softly, her voice halting, stilted as if it hurt to speak. 

“There is no inconvenience” he assured her. “This storm is proving to be quite nasty. We have been known to be snowed in for weeks” he looked to the snow swirling in the air. “Come in, I am sure you’re hungry.”

“My Lord” she gave a nod and followed, leaving the coachmen and butler to deal with her trunks. 

Sansa followed the handsome man into the castle, careful to keep her eyes downcast as she walked. She had heard of him before, of course, Ser Jaime Lannister, the eldest son of Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King. Ser Jaime had been a member of the guard under the mad king and story told that Ser Jaime cut the man down in a fit of rage. 

She had not realized that he was so handsome, an inconsequential detail she assumed when one spoke of the ‘kingslayer’. He wore a long tunic of ivory and red, bold golden lions roaring at each other on his chest. He wore mail underneath and black pants tucked into tall leather boots. His belt and sword were in place, making him look like a daring rogue rather than the cold-blooded killer they made him out to be. 

“Please” he motioned to the large fire in the great hall and she gratefully moved to warm herself. She coverly examined his golden hair and chiseled jaw, wondering if this is what Lord Tywin looked like in his youth. “I am certain you know who I am?”

“Aye, My Lord” she gave a small nod. “I am Lady--no, not Lady. I am Sansa Stark, My Lord.”

“I have heard of you” he said cautiously. “You are a Lady are you not?”

“Not any longer, My Lord” she said softly. “The King has stripped my title and House Stark is no more.”

“Gods” he paced the edge of the rug before the fireplace. “My nephew was always an idiot” he said and when she made no reply he continued. “For what it is worth, I am sorry for your family. I know what it is like to leave a city in shame.”

She moved from the fire, “Shame” she repeated, smoothing her skirts. Her gown was a simple one of deep burgundy, belted with a simple silver chain that hung to her knees. 

“Where are you travelling to?” he asked her. 

“The Quiet Isle” she replied, her throat scratchy from her crying earlier. 

“How dreadful” Ser Jaime scoffed, motioning her to a chair before the fire and sitting himself once she took it. “Forgive me, my manners have not been used in some time.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” she assured him. 

“You are welcome to stay here through the storm and resume travel once the road have improved some” he told her. “I fear the roads here do not fair well in inclement weather.”

“I am grateful for your kindness” she looked at her hands in her lap. 

“You are not accustomed to kindness” he noted dryly. 

“My Lord---” her gaze went to his, preparing to plead. 

“My Sister and her hellspawn have that effect” he cut her off and she looked back at him in surprise. “I hold no love for them, Lady Stark, all but my Father have abandoned me here. She has the means to pardon me, but will not. A kingslayer is not one to be forgiven.”

“I am sorry, My Lord” she did not know what else to say. 

“There is no need to be” he replied, smiling once more. “During your visit we shall be the outcasts of Casterly Rock” he laughed as a servant appeared. 

“Dinner is ready m’lord” the man announced. 

“Come” Ser Jaime stood, offering her a hand to stand. 

She took it, moving to her feet and doing her best to ignore that neither of them wore gloves and his fingers were warm and rough around her own. Warrior’s hands, she decided as she released it. She felt his touch long after they parted ways and she was alone in her room. Sitting before the fireplace she ran her fingers over the ones he had held, wondering if he had bewitched her. 

Moving from the rug she grabbed her prayer beads as she climbed into bed, focusing her thoughts on purity as she slipped into slumber. 

Jaime was riding passed the small chapel beside the castle when he noticed that the door was open and he could see the light of candles inside. Turning his mount he rode closer and easily slid from the saddle and to the cobblestones. It was still snowing, a thick blanket of it covered the world as far as he could see. 

Moving closer he saw the small form kneeling before the altar of the Seven, head bowed as she softly prayed. She had braved the storm and made her way to the chapel, the last place he would have expected to find her. 

The Casterly Chapel had been closed for sometime, dust lingered in the air and a thick layer covered everything he could see. His father had closed it after his mother’s death and moved to King’s Landing shortly after. 

Jaime decided then that he would have it cleaned, make it more hospitable for their guest. A sound caught his ear and he turned back to the woman on the altar’s steps, her slender body shaking with sobs. Her voice, he decided, it had been rough from crying as it would once again be. 

He silently watched her, wondering if she mourned for her family or mourned the life that had been taken from her in the city. She had been engaged to his nephew at one point, she was almost Queen and now she was being sent away to live a life of religious solitude. 

“Please forgive me” she sobbed softly, “please.”

Jaime turned away, leaving her to her prayers. He remounted his horse and rode out, desperate to clear his head. 

“Tell me” Sansa looked up as Ser Jaime spoke. “Have you held the faith of the Seven long?”

“My mother was very devout” she explained. “She taught me to follow them closely.”

“And do you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy? Faith?” she asked curiously. “I do not know if that is permitted.”

“Permitted?” he chuckled. “Don’t you want to live your life?”

She frowned slightly, “I no longer have that luxury, My Lord.” Now he frowned and she carefully sipped her watered wine, “I enjoy my faith, it helped me to feel closer to my mother.” 

It has become their nightly ritual in the sennight she had been at Casterly Rock, after a shared dinner they would move to the fireplace in the great hall, sitting in the two chairs facing it they would have a cup of wine, hers watered, his not. They would talk of anything that came to mind, from family to the realm and beyond. 

It had surprised her, given all she had heard about Ser Jaime Lannister, that he was so well-spoken and learned, admitting sheepishly that he read to pass the time here alone. She enjoyed the haven she had found in the storm, enjoyed their time together. 

“The Chapel was my mother’s favorite place here” Ser Jaime told her with a soft smile. “I have had it cleaned for you, I fear it was quite a mess.”

“That is very kind of you” she thanked him. “It is such a beautiful chapel, I can see why your mother loved it.”

“She was very devout and when my father was away it helped her through” Ser Jaime explained. “When she died he shut the doors and closed it off.”

“If I trespassed--”

“Not at all” Ser Jaime assured her. “I was glad to see it being used once more. It is the most beautiful part of the castle.”

“I agree” she gave a small smile. “Do you not carry the Faith, My Lord?”

“Not in a very long time,” he admitted, sipping his own wine. 

“What happened?” she asked softly, looking to the fire. “That night…”

He was quiet for several minutes, watching the flames in the hearth. She was about to apologize when he spoke, “Have you heard of wildfire?” he asked. 

“Yes, King Joffrey speaks of it often” she replied. 

“The Mad King was obsessed with it” he frowned deeply. “He loved to watch people burn, the way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off their bones. He burned lords he didn't like. He burned Hands who disobeyed him. He burned anyone who was against him. Before long, half the country was against him. Aerys saw traitors everywhere. So he had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city. beneath the Sept of Baelor and the slums of Flea Bottom. Under houses, stables, taverns. Even beneath the Red Keep itself. Finally, the day of reckoning came. Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory at the Trident. But my father arrived first with the whole Lannister army at his back, promising to defend the city against the rebels. I knew my father better than that. He's never been one to pick the losing side. I told the Mad King as much. I urged him to surrender peacefully. But the king didn't listen to me. He didn't listen to Varys who tried to warn him. But he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle, ‘You can trust the Lannisters,’ he said. ‘The Lannisters have always been true friends of the crown.’ So we opened the gates and my father sacked the city. Once again, I came to the king, begging him to surrender. He told me to... bring him my father's head. Then he... turned to his pyromancer. ‘Burn them all,’ he said. ‘Burn them in their homes. Burn them in their beds.’..First, I killed the pyromancer. And then when the king turned to flee, I drove my sword into his back. ‘Burn them all,’ he kept saying. ‘Burn them all.’ I don't think he expected to die. He- he meant to... burn with the rest of us and rise again, reborn as a dragon to turn his enemies to ash. I slit his throat to make sure that didn't happen.”

“And you did not tell them the truth?” 

“Your father judged me the moment he saw me” Ser Jaime said softly. 

“My Lord” she shook her head. “Your exile---”

“I killed the King, Lady Stark” Ser Jaime interrupted her. “Necessary or not, I killed him.”

“And saved thousands” she reasoned. 

“Perhaps” Ser Jaime relaxed into his chair. 

“You are a good man, Ser Jaime” she told him, her heart aching for the sadness in his emerald eyes.

“I would permit you to address me as Jaime” he said quietly. “Here, by the fire.”

“Jaime” she felt her cheeks heat and she hid it by sipping her wine. 

Jaime found himself walking to the chapel several days later, this time noticing that the snow had stopped falling and soon she would be leaving. His men had left early to check the roads and would report back soon. He frowned, deeply, at the idea that she would be gone from his life forever. He had never met a woman like her before and doubted that he would again. 

He had grown attached to her in the past fortnight, to her shy smile and gentle voice that no longer held the sound of tears. To her floral fragrance that seemed to linger in the hall and the sight of candles in the chapel. 

Moving inside he drew up short to see her kneeling at the prayer candles in a soft grey dress and seemed to flow around her like liquid silver, he wimple laying on the marble beside her and a mass of bright, fiery hair curling around her to her knees, touching the floor. 

It was stunning, the color of fire and curled into thick ringlets, he had never seen hair so beautiful. 

He knew the superstitions of the Seven, that being kissed by fire was a curse and sign of an impure person, a warning of madness in the blood. This could have been why her mother instructed her so strictly in the Faith, to ensure she was pious and safe from curse. He had seen madness before and saw no such inkling in her eyes. 

He moved closer, drawn in by her beauty and soon he found himself kneeling beside her. 

“My Lord” she gasped, reaching for her wimple but his hand covered hers. 

“No” he saw the fear in her bright blue eyes. 

“Please...it cannot be easy to look upon” she said softly but he did not release her hand. 

“Easy to look upon?” he repeated. “Sansa your hair is beautiful.”

“No” she said weakly, tears spilling from her eyes. 

He removed his leather glove to wipe the tears from her cheek, “Living fire, it is beautiful, you are beautiful” he told her. 

“It’s sinful” she whispered. “The color of the Stranger. My mother---she said that it should always be hidden or the Stranger will find me. In court they were afraid of me when they found out…”

“It _is_ beautiful, Sansa, and it should never be hidden” he still cupped her cheek, smiling softly at her. He was sure they looked quite the pair, both kneeling in front of the candles on the altar, him in a black doublet and her hair the color of Stranger's fire. “Sansa” he whispered, leaning closely to brush his lips across hers. It was a ghost of a kiss, electricity sizzling through him but it scared her nonetheless. 

“No” she gasped, standing quickly and stumbling back. “We cannot” she shook her head and then was gone, running back down the chapel’s aisle, her hair flowing behind her. 

Jaime cursed softly, picking up her forgotten wimple as he stood. He needed to keep her. He needed her to stay, with every fiber of his being, he needed her. 

Sansa was sobbing by the time she reached her room, chest gasping for air as she barred the door to hide away. 

It had been a stupid impulse, removing her wimple and braid in the chapel, but she was so tired of wearing it, of covering her ‘greatest sin’ with ugly fabric. She had removed it and unbound her hair assuming that she would be alone. But then there he was, kneeling beside her and calling her beautiful. Handsome, charming and brave Ser Jaime was there, touching her skin and then he---

She sank to the rug before the fire, wiping her eyes before her fingers settled on her lips. He had kissed her. A brief brushing of lips that had jolted through her, terrifying her. She had never been kissed before, following her mother’s strict rules and the dictates of propriety. But this man had come to her rescue, charmed her and made her wish for things she had no right to wish for. 

She would leave soon, when the roads are ready and then Jaime would no longer be a part of her life. Her heart ached at the thought and fresh tears spilled from her eyes, burning a path down her cheeks. 

She did not want to leave him, not soon and not ever. She wished she could stay, live beside him in whatever way she could. She had set aside hopes of marriage and family long ago, but being here made her long for them both.

She wanted to savour each moment she had left here, to imprint the memories into her mind so that she could always carry him with her, even after she had to leave. 

She stayed in her room until dinner time, hiding and calming herself down. When time came she cleaned her face, and after briefly searching for her wimple she realized she had left it in the chapel. She frowned, leaving her hair unbound and made her way downstairs. 

Ser Jaime was waiting for her in the dining room, his sword set aside and his black doublet making him look quite imposing. 

“Lady Stark” he greeted her, his emerald eyes sad. 

“My Lord” she replied, clasping her hands in front of her to hide their tremble. 

Dinner was quiet, both of them eating little and not keen on making small talk. When they were done, he stood, offering his arm to escort her to the great hall where their evening wine would be waiting. 

“Sansa?” he spoke as he helped her to her chair. 

“Yes?”

“I have something important to discuss with you” he poured their wine and handed her a cup but did not sit. “The roads are clear, able to be travelled on.”

“Oh” she felt her heart sink as she stared into her cup. 

“I do not want you to go” he said softly. “Stay.”

“What?” her eyes jerked to his, seeing the sincerity there. 

“Stay here, with me” he continued. “Alone we are outcasts, but together we would never be alone. Stay here and be my wife, pass through life at my side?”

“Jaime” she choked on a sob, setting her glass aside. 

“Sansa please” he pleaded. “At least consider staying.”

She gave a small nod, “I will consider it,” she whispered. “I am afraid.”

“Of me?” he paled. 

“No, never that,” she assured him, standing and setting aside her cup to move to where he stood beside the fire. “I know nothing of how to be a wife...”

“And I know nothing of being a husband. Together we would learn” he smiled then. “Think on it, please. Tonight. You can tell me in the morning.”

“I will” she smiled. “I promise.”

Dawn found Sansa on her knees in the chapel once more. This time she had not worn her wimple and instead styled her hair simply with a gold circlet resting on her forehead. She wore an icy blue gown, one of her nicest, with Weirwood leaves embroidered along the sleeve, a tribute to her father who carried the Old Gods. 

She was praying softly, preparing herself to find Jaime and tell him of her decision. She was praying to the Maiden for guidance when a gust of wind blew through the chapel and a loud thud echoed in the back. 

Sansa gasped, quickly standing she did not immediately see anything out of place. Walking down the aisle she saw an open book laying on the floor, having fallen from the shelf of tomes at the back. She crouched, picking it up and scanned the page. 

“Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. Then you will win favor and a good name in the sight of the Seven and man” she read aloud, tears on her cheeks as she smiled. “Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves."

Closing the book she replaced it back on the shelf. Picking up her skirt, she turned and ran, this time towards her future. 

Jaime was paused in the great hall, chasing the chill away as he readied himself for his day. He had hardly slept, wondering what Sansa’s decision would be today. He had thrown himself at her mercy, begged her to stay with him and now it was time for her to choose. 

A bang sounded in the castle and soon Sansa ran into the room, smiling brightly as her red hair bounced behind her. She looked glorious, he smiled at her beauty. 

“Jaime” she ran to his side, taking his hands. 

“Sansa” he met her gaze, seeing the tears on her cheeks. 

“Yes” she smiled, blinking away tears. “I will stay. With you, beside you, all of it. I will stay.”

“Yes?” he laughed, pulling her into his embrace. 

“Yes” she laughed as he lifted her and spun her around. 

“My Sansa” he set her on her feet. She was beaming, cheeks flushed with happiness and he couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried. He leaned down, taking her lips in a gentle, tentative kiss. This time she did not run, she sighed, melting against him as her hands clung to his doublet. 

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, never wanting to let her go. 

Sansa smiled up at him as he placed the red cloak over her shoulders. It had taken only two days to bring a Septon to Casterly Rock now that the roads were clear and today they would wed. 

“With this kiss, I pledge my love” they spoke before Jaime softly kissed her, cupping her cheeks as if she were the most precious item he had ever encountered. 

“You are now one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever” the Septon declared and she smiled through her tears of happiness at the man who was now her husband. 

“You’re beautiful” he whispered, running a hand through her hair. 

“My husband” she whispered back. 

“Come” he took her hand and placed it over his arm, both of them walking passed the staff that had come to the ceremony in the chapel and into their private dinner. 

While there was no family to celebrate with them, they did not mind. Sansa was alone and the last thing she wanted was any of Jaime’s family here. Damien and Addam worked well enough as witnesses along with the other staff.

“Outcasts no more” he said softly, raising his glass. 

“No more” she echoed, clinking their glasses with a smile. 

In stark contrast to their dinner several evenings earlier, they were not silent. They chatted softly, sitting close together, hands touching and occasionally Jaime would lean over and kiss her. It would be sinfully decadent, were he not her husband, but this man was hers and all hers forever. 

“Shall we sit by the fire?” he asked as they finished their meal. 

“No” she felt her cheeks heat. “I believe we should retire, My Lord Husband.”

“My Lady Wife” he kissed her briefly before helping her to stand. 

They walked to the master’s chambers, the large rooms making her own look like a closet, where her belongings now found home beside his. 

“I had your things moved here” he said softly. “I want to live at your side, united and together.” Sansa only smiled, moving into her husband’s arms. 

“I ran north to escape the world,” she said. “And I ended up here with you, Jaime Lannister” she laughed. “If that isn’t the work of the Seven then I do not know what is. I am your wife, as I was always meant to be. Now show me how to be your wife in truth.”

“With pleasure” he pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. 

He held her closely, devouring her mouth in deep, claiming kisses. His wife had never been kissed, never been touched before him and he would show her every pleasure he could this night. 

His hands found their way to her fiery tresses, carding into the curls to cradle her head as he parted her lips with his tongue and delved into her mouth. She tasted of the wine from dinner and something else, something headier that had him groaning against her lips. Her hands were fisted in his doublet, leaning on his strength as he guided her. 

“Jaime” she gasped as he tilted her head aside and trailed kissing across her jaw, neck and just below her ear. 

“My wife” he soothed her, nipping at her ear lobe. His hands moved down her shoulders and back to the laces of her dress, parting them in a desperate rush to get her naked. Her own hands had seen to his belt, the leather and metal falling away to the stone floor with a clang. She was whispering softly, in French he thought, as he teased her. 

He returned to her mouth kissing her deeply as they pushed away clothing and tore at fabric until she was only in her shift and he his small clothes. 

“Jaime” she marvelled, staring at his bare chest, fingers running over his skin with wonder. 

“I am yours to touch, to feel, as you see fit” he promised her. At his words her hand flattened on his skin, sending shivers through his body. 

“My husband” she ran her hand down his chest to his stomach, feeling the muscle there. “You were made for sin.” 

“Perhaps” he smirked. “But here we are wed, nothing could be a sin.” At this he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the large bed where he lay her atop of the furs and coverlet. “You’re perfection.”

“Hardly” she smiled up at him as he crawled over her. 

“Lady Sansa Lannister” he kissed along her jaw. 

“Jaime” she sighed as his hand traveled over her shoulder to her breast, teasing her over the fabric before moving down to her leg, bunching the hem higher. 

“I have never wanted anything the way I want you” he growled, all but tearing the shift from her body, throwing the fabric aside to admire her porcelain nudity. “You’re stunning.” 

“Jaime” she blushed, feeling exposed to his eyes. 

“Perfection” he lowered his lips this time to her breast, sucking the hard peak into his mouth. She cried out softly, writhing beneath him as he worked her body, teasing and tasting until she was panting and flushed from head to toe. “Beautiful” he praised, moving to kiss his way down her ribs, stomach and to the apex of her thighs. 

“Jamie!” she cried out as he tasted her core, lapping at her before moving to trail kisses along her inner thigh. One of her hands found its way into his hair, her breaths heavy and deep as he devoured her. 

He used his lips, teeth and tongue to show her true pleasure, her cries echoing in their chambers. He circled her bundle of nerves, her scream unbridled and without facade, pure pleasure taking her. He did not relent, pushing her until she gushed against his mouth, muscles clenching and unclenching rhythmically as she rode her peak. 

“Jaime” she sighed as her body went lax at his ministrations, shaking against him. 

“Sansa” he smiled, crawling up her body, shedding his small clothes as he went. “I am sorry” he frowned slightly. “It will hurt.” 

“I know” she cupped his cheek. “But then I will be yours.”

“You’re already mine” he promised her, kissing her softly. 

“Make me your wife, Ser Jaime” she whispered. 

He settled into the cradle of her thighs, aligning himself at her folds, “Breathe” he reminded her and when she inhaled he readied himself and then filled her as she exhaled. She cried out in pain as he tore through her maiden’s gift, her blunted fingernails digging into his bare shoulders. “It’s done” he soothed her, remaining still inside of her body. She felt like heaven, tight and hot around him and he knew that after over a decade of solitude he would not last long this night. 

“Jaime” she clung to him, her body tense and shaking. 

“Just breathe” he reminded her and she took several deep breaths, relaxing around him. Her inner muscles relaxed as well, the velvet grip her sheath had on his cock relaxing, if only slightly. “Good, good” he assured her. 

“I feel…” she broke off for several seconds before looking back up at him. “I feel so full…”

“You are” he kissed her, lowering himself to his elbows above her. “You are filled with your husband’s cock, Lady Lannister. You feel incredible.”

“Gods” she cursed softly, her legs falling open to allow him deeper. A whimper escaped her and she held him tighter. 

“You are mine, as I am yours” he reminded her, rocking slowly inside of her as she relaxed. “My wife.”

“Husband” she panted, blinking away tears as he moved inside of her. The pain was no longer sharp, just a dull ache and the sensation of being overly full. Though she knew nothing of men and their endowments, he filled her to bursting, her entire being centered around the feeling of him stretching her. 

She was a maid no more, her husband’s body had seen to her gift and now she was his wife in truth. She could feel his pulse, the beat of his heart both within her and above her as she looked up into his emerald eyes. They were dark now, pupils blown wide as he steadily rocked in and out of her core. 

Her husband, the mighty Jaime Lannister and slayer of kings was claiming her on their wedding night. She sighed as he kissed her once more, taking her lips in soft, teasing kisses as he moved. 

Their bodies moved together, tangled and merged in an ancient dance as their groans and pants filled the room. 

She watched him the mighty warrior as he lost himself to pleasure above her, his eyes fluttering shut as his jaw clenched. 

“Jaime” she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek, love the feel of soft skin and whisker stubble. “My husband.”

“Gods” he growled, moving harder and deeper until she felt him in her entire body, the bed shaking with his movements. He cursed once more, his body sliding deep within her as he choked out her name. “Sansa” she felt him pulse inside of her, fill her with his essence as she clung to him. 

“Husband” she kissed him softly. 

“Mine” he rolled beside her pulling her close to his side. “Are you well?”

“I am” she assured him, snuggling against him. In his arms, for the first time in a very long time she felt safe, she felt at home. 

“Sleep, Lady Lannister” he kissed her forehead, covering them with blankets. “I mean to take you again in the morning.” 

Tywin had ridden like a madman, making his way to the Rock to determine for himself that the rumors surrounding his eldest son were false. They had been running rampant for several moons now and he would see the mockery at an end.

Jaime, Married. He laughed to himself. There was no maid in the realm brave enough to marry the kingslayer. He would know, he had tried to find his son a wife for a very long time. Jaime was his only hope for the Lannister legacy, a true legacy, and he had not wanted him to wither away at the Rock. 

Riding through the stone walls he found the snow-covered keep a hive of activity. A groom greeted him and he dismounted, handing the reins over to the man so he could enter the keep. He had worked hard to restore the Lannister name to greatness after his father’s death, and it had all paid off. 

He took several steps but froze as he noticed that the doors of the chapel were open, inside was well-lit with candles, a state he had not seen it in for decades. He had closed the chapel himself when Joanna left them, unable to bear her loss.

Moving toward it he was surprised to find the slender form a woman kneeling at the altar, lighting candles and singing softly to herself. He watched the fire-haired girl in fascination as she moved, the deep burgundy of her dress clinging to her curves and highlighting a swollen stomach, though it was slight. 

“Father” Jaime’s voice interrupted him. 

“Who is she?” Tywin asked his son, surprised to see him in the red doublet with the golden sword at his side. 

“My wife” Jaime replied simply. “Lady Sansa Lannister, once Stark.”

“_That_ is Sansa Stark?” Tywin looked to her hair in surprise. 

“She was” Jaime replied. “These past four moons she has been Lady Sansa Lannister.”

“You are married then” Tywin stated. 

“I am.”

“To a woman of noble birth no less” Tywin looked to his son, seeing the happiness in his emerald eyes. 

“Yes” Jaime assured him. 

“And the child?”

“A wedded gift, it seems” Jaime said simply. “She came to our marriage bed a maid, I would never dishonor her.”

Tywin gave a nod, “She is devout.”

“Most” Jaime replied. “Like mother” he added. “Welcome to the Rock, Father. It has been many years since you were here last” they shook hands. 

“Yes well I had to see to these rumors myself” Tywin shook his head. “I had resigned myself to you never marrying.”

“As had I” Jaime agreed. “But I was not going to let her go.”

“You love her?”

“I do” Jaime nodded. “She arrived here rather broken by Cersei, going north to become a Silent Sister and instead I made her my bride.”

“I will be here at least a fortnight” Tywin told him. “I would like to see her as you do, rather than how Cersei made her at court” he looked back to where she stood at the altar, her soft song coming to an end. “Her hair…”

“Oh” Sansa turned to face them then, her eyes wide at the sight of the Great Lion in the doorway with her husband. “Lord Hand” she gave a small curtsey. 

“Lady Lannister” Tywin greeted as the beauty moved to Jaime’s side, taking his arm. “I congratulate you on your nuptials.”

“Thank you, Lord Hand” she said stiffly, clinging to Jaime. 

“Let us make our way inside” Jaime said diplomatically. “We can dine together and catch up on the past several moons.” 

Jaime watched as his wife brushed out her hair, the thick red tresses falling nearly to the floor from her seat on the stool. They had shared a meal with his father, and while it was pleasant it was very clear that Tywin Lannister was assessing her value. 

Sansa had been overlooked at court, mocked and abused, but here she was free to shine. And shine she did. Casterly Rock was their haven, a hiding place away from the judging eyes of the world. Their sins were forgotten here and they could live in peace. 

“Husband” she smiled at him, setting aside her brush to stand. 

“Wife” he smirked as she moved towards him, her robe falling away as she moved astride his lap on the bed. “Gods you’re beautiful” his hands ran over her porcelain skin to cup her breasts and then smooth over the gentle swell of their child. When she had fallen ill so soon after their wedding he had been worried, but she shook her head, laughing softly at the plan of the Seven. A child, she had told him, made of their flesh, grew within her womb. 

“My husband” she stroked his cock smoothly. Once a shy maid, together they had worked to build her confidence and now she was as hungry for him as he was her. She aligned him with her core and sank on to him without warning.

Jaime threw his head back in pleasure as her soaked body gripped him, “Fuck.”

“I will never tire of this” she promised him, rocking against him. 

“Nor will I” he agreed, gripping her hips tightly. 

“Jaime” she sighed, riding him slowly and with practiced ease. He had learned quickly that this was her favorite position. She had taken him thus in his study, at the dining table and in front of the fire in the great hall, riding him until she screamed his name. 

He watched his wife take her pleasure, her hands roaming their bodies, touching, teasing, until she arched and screamed above him, inner muscles milking him tightly and forcing him over the edge with her. 

She collapsed across his chest, breathing heavily, “I love you” she whispered. 

“And I you” he kissed her temple. “Always.”

_Epilogue:_

Jaime had once thought of Casterly Rock as a beautiful prison, but now it was his home. Looking across the courtyard he could see his wife with their 6-year old son Willem and their 3 year old daughter Lenora, smiling as they spoke animatedly of something they had experienced today. 

They were both little Lannisters, through and through. Blonde of hair with the bright emerald eyes of their ancestors. While Lenora’s hair had a slight red tinge to it, there was no denying they were golden lions. 

And as such, this meant that Tywin Lannister, the feared Hand of the King had visited home more and more in the past several years. Often he was in residence with them, doting on his grandchildren and spoiling them rotten. 

He watched Sansa smile once more, her hand going over the large swell of her stomach. A third child would soon join them and he could not wait to meet it. Boy or girl, he did not care. Any child made of his wife’s flesh would be cherished. Just as she was. 

He knew all those years ago that he could not let her travel to the Quiet Isle, he had vowed to keep her and somehow he had. 

She must have sensed his gaze, looking up to smile at him she blew him a soft kiss, motioning to their children that he had returned from his ride. Willem and Lenora both ran toward him then, leaping into his arms and he hugged them close. 

This, he decided was worth every sin. Every second of pain. 

He would slay a thousand kings as long as he could have this happiness. 

“Father” Lenora declared. “Papa Tywin says that we’re lions!”

“But Mother is a wolf!” Willem argued. 

“You are both” Jaime assured them. “Lion and direwolf. Wonderful little Lannisters.” Sansa joined then, kissing his cheek. “The best of the Lannisters” he promised her. 

“I love you” she kissed him briefly. 

“And I you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
@the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/


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